


I Can’t Do This Without You

by Rhoverty



Series: Tacenda [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, it made me sad, so I had a thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhoverty/pseuds/Rhoverty
Summary: They fought, argued and argued over words of rage and screams of misunderstandings. They accused and they spat. They slammed doors and cried into the emptiness of a worthless fortune.Or what if something happened to Bruce and Alfred?





	I Can’t Do This Without You

**Author's Note:**

> As an older sibling, this is probably one of my worse fears.

They hadn’t know it happened until it did. Until it was engraved in the ink of the pages feathered in the fingers of the people. Until it was dancing along the screens of news stations and their casters. Until it was fluttering in the words of articles and their writers.

Until it was staring at them in the chipped names of those granite graves and the tears that trailed their cheeks. Like rivers through a canyon, they carved divots of guilt and grief. 

Poetry played along their words which tumbled through their lips upon the men and women who wanted answers to their questions. Who wanted quotes for their stories. Who wanted words for their blank papers and thoughtless minds.

Then it ended in silence.

It drove them back into the throws of grief and sudden responsibly, from the young adult to be to the young who hadn’t known true regret until it spilled its guts into his hands and left. Left the other with a mess of unknown, untampered emotions without possibility of escape and structure.

They fought, argued and argued over words of rage and screams of misunderstandings. They accused and they spat. They slammed doors and cried into the emptiness of a worthless fortune.

Then they stopped, faltered in their words and their sorrow, until they fell to the floor in heaps of whimpers and the canyon of tears which carved their cheeks. 

It was then, a night sitting on an empty rooftop in baggy clothes and gentle tones, that they finally clicked. Finally accepted reality and her harsh ways. Accepted that things would be hard and that differences needed to be overcame.

_For them_.

They would be disappointed in the arguments. In the harsh commands and comebacks. In the disorder which tampered with their relationship - no matter how rocky it may have been from the start.

But they stopped, they listened and moved with the flow of each other’s lives. With the stress and constant worry which plagued differently between one another.

The younger worried about forgiveness and faith. 

The elder worried about screw ups and regret. 

The  what if’s and  if that’s.

The  _this_ and  _that’s_ . 

The  _here’s_ and  _now’s_ .  

The  _then’s_ and  _when’s_ . 

It ate at him in his sleep, staring at his ceiling with thoughts of a happy childhood. Of a fatherly smile and disapproving frowns.

What would  they do.

What would  he do.

_He_ knew. 

Knew what to do in each argument. 

Knew what to do with each venomous word, each comment, each reprimand, each and every regret. 

Knew the rights and wrongs. 

Knew how to deal with school calls and grumpy boys. 

Knew how to deal with harsh colds and sad days. 

Knew how to teach the little thinks like shaving, and girls, and dating, and stupid teachers, and stupid kids. 

Knew how to  raise a child. 

The tears came again. They always did when he fell into deep thought. 

He wondered if the younger did the same. Wondered if he too thought the elder had no idea how to raise a kid. How to be an adult. Then lost himself in thought and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore.

He didn’t know what to do. 

He wanted- needed guidance. Someone with experience and patience. Someone who could do this so he wouldn’t have to. 

But he couldn’t trust a soul out their to do it right.

To do it the way  _they_ had wanted it. 

To do it the way  _he_ had wanted it.

And he couldn’t think of a single individual who could handle such a ragged and rough child. With temperamental mood swings and the constant insatiable desire for learning. A thrive for knowledge that was almost untamable. 

He couldn’t trust anyone but himself. And he didn’t think the younger would trust anyone else as much as he does his brother. 

It will be rough. 

It will be hard. 

It will be painful and heartbreaking, but they could do it. 

They  _would_ do it.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna request or say hi? tumblr.com/rhoverty


End file.
